


Shining, Shimmering, Splendid

by bukkunkun



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Book-reliant, Co-written by Cas and Bukkun, Fused with the book, Multi, Political Unrest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-written by Cas and Bukkun.</p>
<p>Nicholas St. North, thief king and the best of the Cossack tribe bandits, got more than he bargained for when he came to search for a fabled sword.</p>
<p>Spirited away to a kingdom that may as well be after his blood, he is thrust into royal affairs and is entrusted with the duty to settle the unrest that had risen from the depths of the Kingdom's deep, dark history, and honestly, that young Queen is really not helping.</p>
<p>A story on how a young bandit came to be the saviour of a kingdom that filled his eyes with wonder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shining, Shimmering, Splendid

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, as previewed on FF.net, Cas and I have written something. An AU of sorts. We got some pretty positive stuff, so we're very happy to present our hard work! Let's see if we can see to this to the end!
> 
> Enjoy, everybody!

Darkness hung around the mountainside like a heavy veil, blanketing over all the trees and the sleeping animals like a shroud, like as if the world was mourning the loss of the Sun in the sky. Clouds rolled by idly in the heavens, rolling past the bright, luminescent moon high up in the sky. The breeze gently drifted through the trees, rustling their leaves in hushed whispers as Nature slowly ebbed to a gentler flow--night had fallen, it was time for the world to rest.

There would be no animal nor being moving, all resting in their respective homes, calm and subdued much like the world around them. The Moon shone down on it all, in place of the warm, vibrant Sun--it provided life, awoke the world and warmed it up with its radiant energy, the Moon, on the other hand, calmed it down, subduing the excitement of the day life the world had, and hushing it to a standstill for the day that was to come when the Moon bade its gentle goodbyes, as the Sun rose to shine light on the world once again.

Peaceful, luminous moonbeams shone down on the mountainside like the Sun's rays, yet it was cool and soothing, sweet and tender like a lover's caress, as light of the moon cast its glow up the upwards earth, illuminating a beautiful crystal-and-earth palace built on the mountainside. Precious stones, rare metals and iridescent stained glass shone in the white light of the moon, pale and delicate and all the more precious than how they looked during the day.

For at night, when the Sun was not beating down on them, the stones laid down their lustre, their majestic aura, to rest their weary souls, welcoming the coolness of the night and the gentle light of the Moon like a long-lost brother.

And all was well in Punjam Hy Loo.

Or so the Moon thought.

* * *

 

Deep, deep in the bowels of the majestic castle, an ancient evil lurked. It coiled around in wisps of dark, dark shadows, writhing in the darkness of the dungeons, where there with them was the company of the dead, and the evil thoughts and minds of those who had been kept there.

There was much darkness in those dungeons; for evil of the worst kind lurked there--an evil that had no place in the peaceful Kingdom. A man stood in solitary amongst the twisting and turning darkness all around him, his thin, bony hands caressing the shadow creatures around him like a master to his most loyal pet, a smirk crossing his face as he marvelled at the sight of the fruits of his hard labour--decades of cultivation, of lies, of murder, and delicious, _delicious_ nightmares.

Shifting all around him, the black sand--the embodiment of all that is evil, fuelled by fear and doubt, and all things wrong--moved along with the shadows, forming into horrendous mockeries of what was good--wild horses, meant to be majestic and strong, unbreakable and bonded with the power of trust and friendship, were portrayed as mangled, _destroyed_ creatures with broken will, armour plating every surface of its body, eyes that were made to be warm brown now yellow with madness and rage.

"My beloved Nightmares, my Fearlings," the man smiled at them all, proudly, with a wide smile on his face. "The time is near. Can you _taste_ it? Can you all taste that _delicious_ freedom? All that fear, that wonderful, wonderful fear?" He stroked a mare's neck, grinning. "And this kingdom, shall be _mine_. All the spirits under _my_ command. Me, the King of Santoff Klaussen--no, King of Nightmares, and then," he chuckled darkly, grasping the sand-mare's neck, snapping it quickly without remorse. The Nightmare creature let out a shriek and fell to the ground, and all the darkness around him grew restless, watching it writhe around on the floor in absolute pain. "And then, the _world_ , and all the humans in it will all be _teeming_ with fear." His smirk widened as he stepped back, looking at the pitiful creature on the floor. "All of it."

He waved his hand at it and it gave out one last cry, as all the other shadows ganged up on it--the sickening sounds of tearing and screaming and screeching filled the air as it was torn to shreds by its fellow kind.

"And no one shall stand in my way. Not that insufferable Queen Toothiana."

There was a small gasp behind him, and a positively _evil_ smirk crossed his face.

"Speak of the devil," he cheerfully said, quickly snatching the little sprite behind him, giving it no chance to escape as his hand mercilessly wrapped around its tiny body, the sound of its wings tearing barely audible above the din behind the man, where the Fearlings and the Nightmares feasted on the fallen mare. "Hello there, little one. I don't suppose she has anything _nice_ to tell me." He smirked down at the little sprite, who thrashed around in his grip, fear clearly emanating off it. His grin widened and he tightened his grip--earning him that _delicious_ sound of pain, and the fear grew tenfold. "Oh, you poor little thing. Doing such a dangerous thing, oh, why did you have to?" he said with false sweetness, inspecting it as it struggled in his hand. "Let me help free you from your misery." His grin turned manic, and his fingers moved--

The sound of a thin neck snapping filled the air, cutting through the din like a hot knife through butter, and all the Fearlings and Nightmares came to a complete stop upon smelling _fresh blood fresh blood freshbloodfreshbloodblood **blood**_ \--

"Have a go at her," the man smirked, tossing the lifeless body of the little sprite in their direction, and at once, the shadows and black sand feasted on it. "I shall see to her impatience soon enough."

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in her chambers, Queen Toothiana let out a shriek of pain, her throat turning sore as her eyes flew open, her hands clawing at her burning throat, aching so much it felt like her neck had snapped in two. She sat up in her silk-laden bed, gasping for breath as she writhed around, trying to alleviate the pain, the _burning, burning_ pain as a part of her died--neck snapped in two and torn mercilessly apart.

She writhed and tossed and turned, beating her fists on every surface they came upon, riding out the pain until it abated, slowly calming down to a muffled throbbing all over her body, most especially her throat.

Gritting her teeth, she gingerly caressed her aching neck with her slim fingers, her free hand balling into a fist in her silk sheets as her wings ruffled behind her in blind anger.

She'll get him, she swears to herself in her dark, dark room.

She'll get him, and she'll convict him of all his crimes--fooling the people, ruining their lives, and worst of all-- _killing her parents_.

She'll do it all, or she'll die trying.

For if--no, _when_ she _does_ get him, she'll convict him herself, give him the worst death he will ever go through, and she will deliver it herself.

Revenge was a dish best served with blood as cold as the one who did her wrong, after all.


End file.
